Welcome To The Hermit's Desk

It was a gray day today, the sky threatening to spill over with enormous ladles of rain at any moment. Winter in the Midwest has become less snow and more wet pavement. I don't mind this. I loathe cold temperatures, snow, and ice. I'll take it being warm enough to rain as opposed to snow ANY day.

So unbroken was the gray skyline that a single moment nearly made me wreck the car on my way to pick Patrick up from work. Over the horizon came one solitary ray of sunlight. As if having punched its way through the clouds with an ice-pick, there was an falling shaft of halcyon piercing through, painting everything under it the color of molten gold. It was such a small flash of light and yet, that was what made it so noticeable. It was as if the entire world had been washed out to gray and yet someone had turned on color saturation for just a few pixels of the sky.

So beautiful was that moment, and I was sorry I had to focus on the road as opposed to staring off into the distance at it. It made up for the fact that I was sore from hauling ungodly amounts of laundry and fresh cat litter up two flights of stairs. (We go through roughly 50 pounds of cat litter a month. Four cats poop a lot.)

So, yeah. Sunshine and cat poop. That was pretty much my day - and it was a good one.